


Mon Amour

by bunniemoon



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Death, Fluff, Human Alastor - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I’ll add more tags when the next chapter is up, Murder, Romance, The ending is dark, Violence, just a fair warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniemoon/pseuds/bunniemoon
Summary: "The name's Alastor, darling." He dipped his head to press a quick peck to the back of your hand. "Pleasure to meet you."You gasped, "Alastor?As in, the beloved radio show personality…? That'syou?"He grinned, his amber eyes reflecting gold under the streetlamp. He didn't withdraw his hand from yours. "Guilty as charged,mon amour."
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 34
Kudos: 197





	1. Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is going to be a very short story — only 2 chapters! 
> 
> The Reader doesn’t have a defined name or gender, although they are referred to by pet names (dear, darling, etc.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

The air was particularly humid tonight.

This weather was to be expected during a Louisiana summer, but you found it almost suffocating the way it made your baby hairs cling to the nape of your neck.

Despite the heat, the dark empty streets and soft chirping of crickets provided you with a small source of comfort. You lived closer to the outskirts of the city, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown New Orleans, so fortunately you were able to walk undisturbed. After all, the whole point of going out was to clear your mind, and it would defeat the purpose if there were any strangers around to distract you.

You… were at a loss for what to do now.

Reluctantly, your gaze drifted to your hands. Even with how hard you had washed them under the cold tap, you weren't able to fully remove the dried blood caked under your nails. Looking at them made you feel sick, so you screwed your eyes shut to suck in a stabilizing breath.

It was an accident.

You really hadn't _intended_ to kill your father. 

He just… hadn't been himself since your mother's passing. Once upon a time, he'd been a sweet, loving man. After your mother passed, his mourning soon turned to violence. It became a nightly routine — he'd return from work near midnight and wake you, just to beat you until you were covered with dark bruises and cuts. Living alone was too expensive and escaping your father seemed futile. You just had to cower and bear it.

The one benefit to him working so late was at least you were able to enjoy your evenings before he'd return and just… pretend everything was fine for a while.

This evening had started like any other. You'd been in the midst of chopping up ingredients for a new dish that you were eager to try while listening to your favorite radio program. Even though it was lonely eating by yourself every night, you couldn't help but enjoy the act of making dinner. Experimenting with recipes provided a short mental escape from your hellish nightly cycle.

So enraptured in your hobby and the cheery voice of the radio host, you hadn't heard your father enter.

You yelped when his hand grasped firmly onto your shoulder, and you spun quickly to meet his eyes. He was home _much_ earlier than usual, and by the scowl on his face you could sense danger.

Panicked, you shoved him away harshly.

"P-Please don't do this," was all you could think to say.

Blood pounded in your ears.

Ignoring your plea, your father reached out again, much more roughly this time. He pinned you against the counter behind you, giving him the advantage as he squeezed your neck viciously. Your scream was caught in your throat under his grip. Thrashing, you searched in a panic for any means of escape. 

You couldn't be blamed for the adrenaline rush.

You couldn't be blamed for scrambling for the knife on the cutting board and…

Well.

You slashed furiously at your father's neck, and that was that.

His body crumpled over as he wheezed on the floor, and all you could do was watch, frozen. The only noise in the kitchen was a poorly timed laugh track within the static of the radio show and the sound of your father’s final gulps of air. _All you could do was watch._

After that, you moved in a daze. 

His body couldn’t just _stay_ there. You dug through the small shed outside for a shovel and your mother’s old gardening gloves mindlessly, and went about burying him in a shallow grave in the backyard. When you were done, you meticulously scrubbed the kitchen floor, your half-prepared meal left cold and forgotten on the counter. The charismatic radio man cut in after a catchy tune finished, delivering hilarious one-liners with a flourish. Mouth pressed into a grim line, you continued cleaning. You finished wiping up the last of your father’s blood and the radio host laughed.

Then, you’d stripped out of your clothes to change, tossing the bloodied ensemble aside in a pile to discard later. It’d be too risky to burn them in the fireplace… It was summer, after all. Neighbors would be suspicious.

All the possibilities of you getting caught raced through your mind, mingled with the radio static. 

_There’s no way his disappearance will go unnoticed for very long…_

You felt nauseous. The house was too stuffy, too loud…

Without a second thought, you were out the door.

***

Remembering was making you dizzy.

Staggering to a gate that lined the sidewalk, you pressed your face into the cool iron and choked down a gag.

Sweat was beading on your forehead. You struggled to regulate your breathing. The sticky summer air wasn’t helping. A few moments passed, and you forced yourself upright… only to come face to face with a chapel on the opposite side of the gate. 

Was this a form of punishment?

You’d never been strictly religious, but you clasped your hands in front of you anyway to beg for forgiveness. It was an accident. _There was no other way..._ Tears gathered in your eyelashes.

Only when you registered a shuffle to your side did you budge. Your head snapped towards the noise.

A man leaned against the gate next to you, and you gasped.

His russet hair was tousled by the breeze as he turned to look at you over the top of his glasses. He spoke to you, lips stretched into a bright smile.

"It's a gorgeous night for a stroll, isn't it?"

...Why did he sound so familiar?

He patiently awaited your cautious response.

"Y-yes, I suppose," you suppressed a shudder, nerves still twisting your stomach unpleasantly. "...May I help you, sir?"

"Well, I happened to notice you looking quite shaken over here, dear. I couldn't, in good conscience, just leave a lovely neighbor such as yourself in complete distress." 

You forced a polite smile. "Well, thank you for your concern, sir. I've just had a very… long day, I'm afraid. No need for any worry, if you wanted to continue on your way."

The man straightened upright and began dusting off his crisp button-up shirt. He shook his head determinedly.

"Nonsense! Sometimes the best cure for a bad day is some friendly company." His voice lit up excitedly, as if he just had an epiphany of sorts. "In fact, if you’re still out for a walk, why don't I join you?"

As much as you should’ve said no, you found yourself considering his offer. So far, your time alone had been spent agonizing over what you had done… If this cheerful man was gifting you a break from your dark thoughts, then maybe you could accept it.

"Well…" You pushed off the gate, fully facing the stranger. "I've heard the nearby park is quite charming at night, if you're interested." 

His eyes crinkled from the force of his grin, and he held out an arm to lead you.

You wordlessly linked your arm with his.

***

Magnolia trees danced in the light breeze. Occasionally, delicate ivory petals would break free and drift to the ground. The cry of crickets was louder here; it was such a nostalgic white noise. Small ponds lined the walkway through the park, with the fireflies that buzzed above them reflecting on their glassy surfaces. The street lamps here became less dense, so peeking through the treetops you could make out the shimmering stars and crescent moon.

The stranger pressed into your side made you feel safe.

Somehow during the course of your outing, you'd begun to trust him. He never offered you his name, and you'd never offered yours, but it didn't matter. There was something about speaking with him that put you at ease. You were never one to dominate a conversation, but you found it so easy to spill your soul to him.

You both shared one particular life experience — he had also lost his mother. He explained that his mother was from whom he had learned his love for cooking, which was yet another mutual interest to chat about. It was so pleasant to forget everything wrong and exchange recipes for a bit… 

Together, you covered every topic, from favorite books to favorite songs to childhood memories. It must've been hours that you'd both circled the park, just so the conversation didn't have to end. Bantering was so easy with him. You felt giddy as you held onto his sleeve and laughed.

But… this couldn’t last. Not after what you’d done.

You were just delaying the inevitable.

Walking around this park, arm-in-arm with a charming stranger… all was just to procrastinate returning home.

The man seemed to register your anxiousness. Perhaps you had squeezed him too tight. He glanced down at your hand on his forearm with worry.

"Dear," he began, "you never did tell me what had upset you so much." His gaze was caught on your fingers as he spoke; he finally noticed the blood under your nails. Gently, he pried your hands from his arm and held them closely within his, silently inspecting them.

"I-I…" you rasped lightly. "I don't think I can tell you. You most likely wouldn’t feel comfortable with the answer."

Your nerves kicked in full-force. Tears pooled your vision, and you closed your eyes tightly to prevent any from falling.

"Darling, nothing you could say would change my opinion of you."

You knew this was a lie. There is no way this stranger would accept the fact you'd killed someone — your father, no less. But when you opened your eyes and looked into his, something within his own amber gaze convinced you to tell him. Either way, it wouldn't really make a difference.

You exhaled deeply. "I've… done something unforgivable."

He waited for you to continue.

“I,” you whispered, “m-might’ve… harmed my father.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Harmed?”

“W-well…” Chest tightening, you struggled to breathe in the humid air. “...Killed, I suppose.” You winced, expecting him to run. Seconds passed before his arm retracted from yours. You felt sick all over again.

Until his palms landed softly on your shoulders. He squared you off to face him.

“Tonight?”

“E-excuse me…?”

“Was he killed tonight?” He clarified.

“Oh, um. Yes. It’s why you found me out so late,” you explained.

You figured you owed him some justification...

So, once again you bore your heart to this stranger, telling him everything. His steady expression and grounding weight on your shoulders kept you in the moment. He never seemed to judge or interrupt until you finished your story, ending with when you’d met him.

Finally, he spoke. “Darling,” his tone was the most gentle you’ve heard him, “what you did was self defense. There’s nothing wrong with doing what you must to survive.”

“B-but! I—!”

Interrupting your reply, the man pulled you into an embrace, fingers carding through your hair. Your face heated as he murmured against the shell of your ear, “You did the right thing. It’s an unfortunate fact that some people don’t deserve to live.”

Although you were pressed against his body heat, you shivered at his words. “W-what? What about the police? Hard to think they’ll feel the same when they find me… No matter what, this is it for me.”

He leaned back and cupped your face within his palms. One of his thumbs wiped an escaped tear off your cheek, and the other brushed agonizingly slow across your bottom lip. You felt guilty for the butterflies in your chest during such a somber conversation, but he was so close, and his gaze had settled upon your lips...

“I'll make certain no one finds you, darling.”

Your heart was racing.

“D-do you promise?”

“I’m not typically one for making promises. But, for you, my dear…” His finger traced your jawline. “We’ve been walking quite a while. How would you like to take a small break?”

Indeed, hours had flown by; the dull burn in your calves could attest to it. It had to be nearing 2 in the morning, if not past it. The two of you had come to a stop shortly before the edge of the park, probably opposite to where you’d entered. 

You allowed a shy smile to grace your lips, and his sharp eyes tracked the movement. “I’d… I’d like that, stranger.” You winked to brighten the mood a bit, and he chuckled quietly.

***

When the man had slowed in front of a radio station, you were confused. He pulled out a set of keys and fiddled with them at the door.

“Are we allowed to be here?” You asked.

His smile was a little smug as he raised a single eyebrow. “Of course, dear! When you’re the owner of the establishment, you can do whatever you’d like.” A click of the lock, and the door was open.

“Owner? Alright, hold on… I know we’ve both been intentionally vague, but who exactly _are_ you?”

He slipped the keys back into his pocket before weaving his long fingers through yours. Your hand was pulled closer. The man paused to examine your bloodied cuticles once more; his expression that of concentration, as if he was debating something in his head. 

Before you could question it, his easy smile had returned.

"The name's Alastor, darling." He dipped his head to press a quick peck to the back of your hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

You gasped, " _Alastor?_ As in, the beloved radio show personality…? That's _you_?" 

He grinned, his amber eyes reflecting gold under the streetlamp. He didn't withdraw his hand from yours. "Guilty as charged, _mon amour._ "

Cheeks warming from the pet name, you hurriedly introduced yourself as well. Alastor tested out your name and the fluid way it rolled off his tongue only flustered you more.

You really shouldn’t be here, but… the way he was smiling at you… 

You felt… happy. And despite only meeting Alastor tonight, you trusted him. 

He’d promised to help you.

“Now then…” Alastor slid his arm around your waist and led you into the radio station.


	2. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I should be sleeping but instead I finished editing the finale of this fic. 
> 
> ***Please keep in mind the violence tag for this chapter!!***

Alastor was an excellent host.

He obliged your many questions as he gave you a brief tour of the building. You'd always loved listening to radio shows, so getting to actually explore a studio was the best possible distraction you could've asked for.

Eventually, the tour ended at a record player in the corner. Alastor beamed at you as he set a record in. A familiar song hummed to life.

“Care for a dance, dear?” He extended a hand, palm up.

You shouldn’t… There was still so much to figure out before the night was over…

It felt wrong after committing a murder only a few hours prior, but… 

You placed your hand in his.

With a shimmer in his eye, Alastor pulled you close and led you in time with the music. His hand that wasn't entangled with your own found its way to your waist, settling there with a comfortable weight. You melted into his touch.

"Al?" You began, peeking up at him to gauge his reaction to the nickname. He only nodded encouragingly, his grin ever-present. "... Thanks."

"Whatever for, dear?"

You were certain he knew, but you responded anyway, "I felt… very lost tonight before you found me. I still don't have any idea what to do but… I'm glad I met you." 

He laughed. "There's no need to thank me! Although, for what it's worth, I'm quite glad I met you as well."

Alastor spun you when the music swelled into a crescendo. A delighted laugh burst out of you, joining his own as the sound reverberated throughout the room.

You tried to tame your joyful expression a bit before bringing up a more sobering subject.

"So uh… what _do_ you think I should do?"

"Ah, of course!" Alastor slowed the dance into a calm sway. "Well, your father surely can't stay buried in the yard forever. That's much too easy to find!"

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"W-what do you suggest then?"

There was a hint of something dark in his smirk. "Have you ever been hunting, darling? Or, at the very least, prepared fresh meat?"

"Al, you couldn't possibly mean…"

Your stomach turned at his insinuation, and you had to force yourself to focus on the movement of your feet so you wouldn't stumble over his. He continued to gracefully guide you to the music, unperturbed. 

"Now, now. I'm not implying something _that_ gruesome," Alastor chided you, voice utterly serene despite the topic of discussion. "However, it is a very effective way to hide your evidence. If you are able to separate the corpse into smaller pieces, you would have an easier time burning and scattering his remains." 

The idea made you absolutely nauseous, but… maybe he was right. There was no way your father's body would fit into the fireplace to burn as is, and it's not like you could just drag the corpse out the front door to go hide it somewhere else. 

It was a horrifying thought. But it was most likely the best option.

How could you do it though?

After all, it was still your father.

"I-I… Al… I'm scared."

Your vision was blurred as tears threatened to spill over. Alastor stilled the dance to bring the two of you to a halt. Embarrassed to cry yet again in front of him, you lowered your head to his shoulder. With your face pressed partially against his neck, you could feel his pulse quicken slightly.

"Dear…" Alastor's fingers traced a delicate line, from where they rested on your waist up to your jaw. He gently lifted your face from his shoulder to meet his gaze. An emotion you couldn't quite place burned within his eyes. "I told you I'd help you, did I not? Everything will be okay," he reassured you.

As he swiped both his thumbs across the wetness on your cheeks, your heart thrummed.

Alastor was here for you. Everything would be okay — he'd promised you.

"Ah, there's that smile I love so much!" Alastor grinned widely at you in return. Had you been smiling? You'd been too caught up in the moment to notice.

And when had you two gotten so close…?

If you only shifted an inch or two forward, your lips would meet.

"Alastor…"

Your fingers traced to where your head had been resting against his throat. His pulse was beating in double time to the soft swing tune that filled the studio.

Before you could lose your confidence, you pressed your lips to his.

It was quick and gentle, more of a peck than anything. But, as you pulled back, Alastor's face flushed, complimenting the reddish tones of his hair. He stilled, saying nothing. You couldn't help but begin to feel self-conscious at his silence. Your cheeks suddenly felt too warm.

"O-oh! I'm so sorry, I—! I should've asked fir—"

Not giving you a chance to finish, he moved to kiss you again. You gasped against his lips, but after recovering from your shock you relaxed and eagerly reciprocated. His hand slid into your hair to tug you even closer. When you ran your tongue across his lower lip you could taste the faintest lingering flavor of bitter coffee.

Alastor released a shuddering sigh when you parted to catch your breath.

You were overwhelmed immensely from the whiplash of your emotions tonight. Alastor began to pepper feather-light kisses from the tip of your nose to your forehead, and you felt dizzy. 

"Al, I… You… I think I need to sit down for a moment."

"Of course, darling." His smile was dazzling. 

He led you to a small burgundy sofa near the window and carefully helped you lay down. The world was spinning around you. Alastor gingerly brushed your loose hairs off your face with his fingertips.

"Perhaps some refreshments may help? Rest here and I'll go prepare some tea and something light for you to eat." 

"Okay. Thank you so much, for everything." You squeezed his hand. His expression was warm and he left you with one more chaste kiss.

"Of course, _mon amour._ "

He disappeared down the hall to where he had shown you the studio's kitchen. In the meantime you shut your eyes again to rid yourself of vertigo. A few minutes later and you were already beginning to improve a bit. 

Your mind was still racing, however.

So… maybe getting romantic with the person who was going to help you dismember and hide your father's remains wasn't exactly the _best_ choice you could've made.

But… you couldn't help but feel drawn to Alastor.

He was so attentive and kind. His cheerful disposition was contagious. It was so easy to relate to him. Never being the most social person, it surprised you how simply conversation flowed between you two. You wondered what it would've been like to meet him under better circumstances.

You recounted his amber eyes, and the way they had burned so passionately when he looked at you just minutes ago… 

You sat up, feeling suddenly flustered at the memory of the kiss you had shared. It had only been maybe ten minutes since he'd left, but you were already more steady-footed and your erratic heartbeat was making you antsy.

From the kitchen, you could hear the clanking of metallic pots and pans. You were still too raw and emotional to face Alastor yet, so you decided to pace the room until he was finished. Another slow song began playing from the record player, the dulcet sound of piano offering you some company.

You took some time to clearly inspect the radio equipment. It was still unbelievable to think of how many times you had listened to Alastor's show. Never had you expected to meet him.

Then, you inspected the knick knacks he kept around the room. He seemed to keep his space extremely tidy. You found yourself at a bookshelf. Scanning the titles, you were surprised to see there were quite a few horror novels. He hadn't mentioned enjoying them during your walk together, but perhaps he'd thought it would be in poor taste to bring up horror after the night you'd had. He was always so considerate… 

As you knelt to peruse the bottom shelf, you noticed the wheels attached underneath the bookshelf. They were hidden in a way that you would have to be crouched on the floor to see them.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you stood to push the furniture aside. 

Behind it was a closed door.

It was rude to pry into someone else's affairs, however… you jiggled the doorknob anyway. It was locked, but you recalled seeing a loose key tucked away on his desk. You went to grab it, quickly returning to the mystery door. The key was a perfect fit in the lock.

You felt guilty, but you didn't think Alastor would be upset. It was impossible to even imagine him frowning. The door probably just hid a storage room. Straining your ears you could distantly hear Alastor humming and the sound of something sizzling on the stovetop. 

You'd just take a quick peek, then go wait again on the sofa… 

Quietly, you turned the key.

Luckily for you, the door didn't even creak. Not that it'd matter between the sound of the record player and Alastor cooking. Still, you found yourself tiptoeing into the new room and down the short flight of stairs. It was clammy and dark, with the strangest scent of rust that for some reason stirred a sense of panic in your chest. You felt your way along the wall until you came to a source of light, and the room was illuminated.

You regretted it immediately.

There was no time to even take in the surroundings. No… your eyes were drawn to the center of the room.

A tarp was spread neatly across the dark wood floor, and on top of it was a woman. At least, what you believed to be a woman. It was difficult to discern considering the state of the corpse.

Chunks of her body were missing methodically. The lines carved into her skin would've seemed systematic if it weren't for the pools of blood leaking from them. Her stomach was especially gruesome; it appeared to be completely peeled open, with some of her innards removed. Deep bruises darkened the bare skin of her wrists. 

The corpse's face was frozen in terror.

You couldn't bear to look anymore and turned away to steady yourself against the wall. Perspiration was drenching your hair and causing it to stick to your face, and the bile you'd been holding in couldn't be contained any longer. You doubled over and vomited violently on the floor. 

"Darling?"

_No…_

Goosebumps covered your skin as his voice called down from the doorway. Your gaze snapped to where he stood, shaking his head and holding a platter of smoked meats and cheese.

Alastor simply tutted at you. 

"You do realize it's impolite to snoop, don't you?"

"A-Al! It's not--" You couldn't finish your sentence when a second wave of nausea overtook you and you vomited once more.

Alastor sighed. "And just look at the mess you caused, dear! I do try to keep this room as sanitary as possible, you know. Now I'll have to mop the floor."

 _What?_ What was he saying? He didn't seem at all phased by the body on the tarp. Huddled on the ground, you were forced to acknowledge the fact that he was the one who killed the woman. He'd explained to you a method of disposing of a corpse earlier and you hadn't even been remotely suspicious.

And now, as he shut the door behind him, you were trapped in the room with a murderer.

He started slowly down the stairs. 

"Wait, please!" Your throat burned but you pushed through to speak. "I won't tell anyone, I promise!" 

Again, he shook his head. "As much as I'd love to believe you, your reaction says otherwise. Such a shame too; I never expected you to discover my little hobby so soon." He set the platter down on a small table nearby, but not before lifting the knife off of it. It glinted, reflecting the dim light.

"No! Alastor, you know my secret; I killed someone too! We're even, I swear I would never incriminate you! Please… don’t!" Adrenaline pushed your sickness down and you swiftly rose to press against the wall.

"Begging doesn't suit you, darling. I truly am sorry it had to come to this." 

He stepped even closer as he spoke; there was nowhere to run unless you could get past him to the door. But… with your body so weak and shaky, things were looking grim.

"W-Why? Why are you doing this?" Your voice was meek.

His grin that had seemed so friendly before now appeared sinister. Why was he still smiling?

" _Why?_ " He laughed, the sound loud and echoing around the room. "Well, dear… there really is no purer form of _entertainment._ " He was getting closer. The amber of his eyes shone red in the light. Under his feet, his shadow elongated.

It was now or never. With the last of the strength you possessed, you darted past him. Leg muscles burning, you desperately sprinted towards the door. Blood from the woman's corpse splashed under your shoes as you ran across the tarp.

But… Alastor was faster.

A chuckle escaped him and his fingers gripped tightly onto your forearm. You hardly had a chance to fight him off before he plunged the knife into your back. 

Immediately, you knew he hit something vital; the pain was scalding and your limbs were heavy. You collapsed pathetically into a pile on the ground. Alastor's hand gripped your shoulder and yanked the knife out before flipping you onto your back.

Eyes bleary, you watched him kneel beside you. You tried to move but his vice grip held you in place. Tears were streaming down your cheeks in a steady flow. Alastor looked at you and exhaled deeply, a mockery of sadness overtaking his features. Still, he never frowned.

"Darling, it pains me to see you like this… Even now, I find myself missing your smile."

You gurgled, but were unable to speak. Back damp from blood loss, you were feeling dizzy again.

"It'll all be fine, though! I have the feeling you and I will be meeting again someday."

You couldn't possibly comprehend what he was saying. The only thing that alerted you to what was about to happen was the cool touch of the blade as it was raised to your throat. 

_This is it…_ You'd trusted this stranger, followed him to a secluded location. There was no one to blame but yourself. Exhausted, you closed your eyes and accepted your fate.

"Rest well, _mon amour._ " 

The panic that caused your body to twitch was instinctual, you think. Although the slice across your neck stung, you were already so far gone from your other wound that it didn't hurt as horribly as you'd expected.

Nerves forced your eyes to flutter open one final time. Alastor's smile was peaceful as he watched you die. He lifted his hand to swipe your hair back and planted a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Delirious, you could've sworn you heard the gentle buzz of static. 

The room faded to black.

***

You weren't surprised at all when you awoke in Hell.

Honestly, the only surprising part of it was that the afterlife was real. You'd always been quite the skeptic while alive.

At first, it'd been difficult to adjust to the red skies, the open violence, and the yearly Extermination. But, like anything else, over time it became a routine. You found a cheap apartment within the city, and settled into your new life. Despite the fact that you could barely afford to live with the low-paying café job you'd procured, things were as okay as they could be in Hell.

Eventually, you'd come to terms with your fate. Before, you'd never truly accepted the fault for your father's murder due to it being out of defense. But now, you had the chance here to do your best and turn things around. There were so many vices here, and crime was everywhere, but you just wanted to make an honest living. You weren't going to turn to violence. Somehow, even in Hell, you would atone for your sins.

You felt determined.

And so, years passed this way. Working long hours, cowering in fear every Extermination, and trying your best to remain kind. You made certain to stay far, _far_ away from the dangers of Hell's Overlords, especially when the infamous _Radio Demon_ appeared.

But… one day, when Hell's very own princess was featured on the news, your interest was piqued.

 _A hotel for redemption…_

It'd probably be for the best to keep away from any trouble that could be involved with the hotel, but you _had_ to know.

You were eager for a chance to get out… As much as you tried not to think about it, your father was definitely somewhere in this city, too. You'd long since forgiven him, but that didn't mean you wanted to actually ever confront him.

Chasing the promise of Heaven, you made your decision. You were going to the hotel.

You were elated with your decision when you got to finally meet Charlie. So sweet and charismatic, you found it hard to believe she was the daughter of Lucifer. More than ever, you felt optimistic as she led you excitedly around the hotel to discuss her goals. You told her you'd work your hardest to help her accomplish her dream, and she enveloped you in a tight hug.

After the tour, she introduced you to a couple of the residents at the hotel. At this point, Charlie mentioned, it was mostly just staff who stayed here. It appeared that no one else was quite as convinced of Charlie's plans as you were… 

Regardless, you remained as courteous as possible while greeting Vaggie and Husk. Charlie assured you that you'd meet everyone else at dinner tonight. 

While she was rummaging through the concierge desk to pull out the necessary paperwork, you heard the front door creak open and closed. Cheerful humming drifted in from down the hall, followed by approaching footsteps.

"Oh!" Charlie shot up. "Speaking of dinner, he's probably back to get started on cooking," she hurriedly whispered to you before addressing whoever had entered. "Welcome back, Al!" 

_… Al?_

Before you could even question Charlie, the new demon stepped around the corner. 

He was all crimson, from his tailored suit to his striking eyes. On top of his head were what appeared to be deer antlers and ears. His hand was up in a wave, mouth open as if he was about to speak, but he was frozen in place when his gaze locked with yours. Then, a smile split his face. His teeth were so golden and sharp that it unnerved you a bit.

"Al, meet our new resident! We were just getting started on the paperwork," Charlie introduced you excitedly. "He helps manage the hotel, and he makes an amazing jambalaya." She winked at you, and the red demon only responded with a chuckle distorted with static.

You were unsure why, but the static made the hairs on your arms stand on end. Not wanting to appear rude however, you turned your full attention to the stranger. During Charlie's introduction, he'd crossed the lobby to stand uncomfortably close to you. You repressed a shiver and raised your hand to shake his.

Eagerly, he placed his hand within yours.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You greeted him politely.

"Hey, Alastor, I'm gonna go grab a pen really quick from the office! Please help our new guest feel at home!" Charlie called over her shoulder as she skipped off.

 _Alastor…_

Your heart sank.

When he started laughing, your eyes snapped back to his, then to his wide grin. An invisible audience laughed with him.

No… 

He wouldn't let you yank your hand away. His nails dug into your flesh and he loomed over you.

"Darling," he purred. All at once, you recognized his voice.

_No…_

"I just _knew_ we'd meet again someday."

"N-no! You… " Throat suddenly dry, you cut yourself off.

Static roared around you. Alastor lifted your hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back, a perfect mimicry of the night you had met him.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, _mon amour._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> SORRY Y’ALL LMAO
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story’s ending despite it being pretty grim!
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!


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